Resident Evil
by loyan of violence
Summary: Sol Village, Mexico. A unheard of village intoxicated by its horrific sins. 23 year old agent Loyan Dennis will soon be plunged into the terrors hidden beneath this perished town.


_Translation_: English to **Spanish  
**_Words  
_**Ah: **Ah  
**Cabana**: Cabin  
**Sol**: Sun  
**Cigarillo**: Cigarette  
**Si**: Yes  
**Gracias**: Thank you  
**Problema**: Problem  
_Individual Phrases  
_**Excusa, sino yo jamas cautivo tu nombre  
**(Sorry, but I never caught your name.)  
**Me llamo  
**(My name is…)  
**Excusa, yo usado cuarto de bano  
**(Sorry, I was using the bathroom)  
**Yo tardar arriba, tu tardar abajo  
**(I'll take upstairs, you take downstairs)  
**Si Gracias  
**(Yes, thank you)  
**Si Senor  
**(Yes sir)  
**Sancho! Sancho, venir rapidamente!  
**(Sancho! Sancho, come quick!)  
**Aye! Ayuda! Ayuda!  
**(Ah! Help! Help!)  
**Corrida pues tus vida  
**(Run for your life!)

**1. And you call yourself a sheriff?**

All seemed lost, like a lone soldier in the Vietnam War; this was an emotion of boredom, plain and simple. However, your surroundings would be _expected _to be dull if you had been forced into a seemingly endless car trip in an uncomfortable, failing jeep with a rather talkative, elderly sheriff that was the highest and not unheard of, only authority figure within a desolate village located on some deserted tip in south Mexico. These annoyances were all true, not a fib to anyone's name.  
Agent Loyan Dennis of the CIA pressed his face against the hazy, plastic passenger's window. His mid-length ebony strands flattened onto his moist tan complexion. The eyes of the youthful agent were bloodshot from the impossibility of falling asleep in such a noisy vehicle, which in fact had its muffler killed off centuries before Loyan had gotten to it. The burning chestnut pupils Agent Dennis had once possessed stared blankly out into the narrow path the jeep had been crossing through for the last forty minutes. Dusk had taken into effect and the hovering trees added to the barrier standing in front of any ability to see clearly at the road ahead. Just as Loyan was on the climax that would soon bring him to his serenity, slumber, the automobile came to a halt.  
"¿Javier's cabana, si?"  
The disrupted agent raised his body from its sluggish, leaning state and turned his head towards the sheriff, making eye contact. He understood Spanish and replied in the most overwhelmed possible manner.  
"Si, gracias."  
Loyan's mission was far from complex, but then again, anything calling for the assistance of the CIA was _usually _complicated in some form. He was assigned the task of observing the murder of the only political member in the unheard of village Agent Dennis had been dragged to, Sol Village. The victim of the unclear crime was the mayor of this unpopulated area, Javier Ortega.  
"¿Cigarillo?" asked the decrepit sheriff, holding out a red case of cigarettes.  
"No, gracias." Loyan nodded his light head as he said this, hair flying into his face.  
The officer shrugged and pulled out a smoke for himself. As though it was a strong craving he ravenously reached for his lighter. After a second of digging into his lint-infested pockets he lit his cigarette and puffed as though he had reached nirvana. Loyan squinted, rather disgusted by the sheriff's smoking. The agent said nothing, he'd rather not open an argument up into bad habits and death rates; it gave off an impression of an unwanted presence. The two exited the resting jeep and made way into the path ahead. The sheriff threw the butt of his smoke onto the dry weedy abyss. Not five feet from the vehicle they were faced with a large steel bridge, appearing ancient but still indeed stable. Also appearing to have been recently used the rusted crossing was built for extreme weight including loaded trucks, bulldozers, and what not. Just as Loyan took a couple steps a random thought flashed into his mind. Though the eight plus hours he and the Sol Village sheriff had been together nether of each other had caught the names of one another. Agent Dennis turned around and stopped the officer in his tracks.  
"Excusa, sino yo jamas cautivo tu nombre."  
"Ah, si. Me llamo Sancho."  
"Me llamo Loyan."  
Loyan had automatically caught on to the pronunciation of Sancho, poor Sancho himself took five minutes worth of tries before he had managed to say his partner's name _decently. _With the names said the duo marched forward through the crossing lying before them with ease and confidence. Now standing in front of the first class cabin appearing more like a villa the two were stopped by Loyan's communication device. The now more alert agent removed the overly large solid black walkie talkie from his deep black leather belt. Pressing the channeling portal he answered into the device almost instantly.  
"Dennis here…"  
A cold, deep voice sounding more like commands then requests half the time answered.  
"Our GPAs indicate you've made it to the extraction point. I take it without any frustrations."  
"Affirmative Chief, we're about to take entrance into the cabin. Was there anything you _actually _needed?"  
The Chief paused for an endless moment. His general-like vocals came back online instantly after this halt.  
"No son, just keep me posted."  
"Can do Chief, Loyan out."  
The agent set his walkie talkie back in its rightful position, on his tiny hip. By the time he lifted his head up to check on Sancho the stout, fat sheriff had made his way into the cabin. Loyan removed his magnum from the black holster it lye peacefully in. He then made a small jog into the cabin. Agent Dennis was shocked when entering the housing.  
"Holy shit…" Loyan's mouth dropped at least fifteen feet as he stared around at the luxurious environment.  
The most noticeable feature in the complex were tied between the rare, red Chinese flooring and the grand master marble stair case, making up a fourth of the bottom floor. Surrounding the walls was possibly every one of a kind scarce Spanish treasure and the most expensive of desert paint. Each of the four rooms on the bottom floor had double doors with fancy lion-designed knockers. The railing and sidings of the house were of polished marble, all seemed as though heaven had taken refuge into the cabin.  
"Sancho?"  
Loyan peered around as he had blurted this out. There was oddly no response. The agent brandished his magnum after setting back in its holster but a couple minutes before.  
"Sancho?" Loyan called out yet again.  
Strangely not a reply or a peep of sound, fear started to shroud Agent Dennis's mental state. Sweat began to slide down his complexion, Loyan tried to ease himself. This was beyond reasoning, Sancho couldn't have disappeared from him surroundings in the brief amount of time presented to him. What possible state of mind would have drove him to fleeing? No…Sancho wasn't gone, Loyan was just being a bit paranoid. Chances were that the short sheriff just needed to clean out his ears or something _possible. _Within seconds the youthful, momentarily paranoid agent had driven away his mad theories.  
"Sancho!" Loyan exclaimed, louder than the previous cries.  
Suddenly the flushing of a toilet filled the air, in an instant Sancho came from what appeared to be the rest room of the cabin. He zipped up his pants with some difficulty. Sancho then glared at Loyan, peacefully.  
"Excusa, yo usado cuarto de bano."  
"No problema."  
"Si, Gracias."  
Loyan set his weapon back into his holster and took a deep breath. For a moment in he was frightened, a rare event.  
"Yo tardar arriba, tu tardar abajo."  
"Si senor." Sancho nodded and began into the nearest quarters.  
Loyan slowly jogged up the grand staircase. The marble floor made the agent easily prone to slipping but he managed to successfully keep his balance. He was confronted by the first door almost immediately. All three of the rooms were but five feet away from one another, door wise; this was an extremely small space. Agent Dennis slowly opened the door of the closet room. He was presented with an office including a typewriter and many scattered books and financial papers. The room possessed not a single closet only the entrance. Loyan backed away from the study area and into the next room. This quarter was the grand master's bedroom or so it appeared. The only visible thing in the room besides the unnoticeable paintings and desks and such was a large king sized bed. Laying it was the confirmed body of Mayor Ortega. His surrounding bed was tattered and torn and stained with dry blood. Agent Dennis turned around and started crying for Sancho.  
"Sancho! Sancho, venir rapidamente!"  
Sancho came sprinting into the master bedroom, well it was sprinting for our Sancho but for any _healthy _human being it looked as though he was jogging slowly. As Loyan removed his walkie talkie once again Sancho begin wrapping the body up in cellophane. Dennis channeled in, his Chief was on call.  
"Thought you'd two been killed off. What took you so long!"  
"I'm sorry chief…I forgot my rocket propelled boots at home."  
By the long silence Loyan could tell that the Chief was angered by his _decent_ comeback.  
"You can be smart on your own time, you little smart-ass! Now tell me what you found."  
"We've found Javier, dead, by the blood stains for at least a week."  
"Hmmm…well done. We're sending in medical unit to retrieve the team. We'll be there in five hours."  
Loyan eyed his small watch. It read fifteen past one, medical would arrive at six in the morning, within dawns rising.  
"So what do Sancho and I do?"  
"That cabin seems safe, take a bit of a rest there."  
"Finally some shut eye…"  
"Don't get used to it son. Over and out."  
Loyan turned the power off on the device and placed it back within his belt as it had become routine. He then turned around and exited the room. Sancho was hauling the body down the staircase and over near the largest window in the complex, it'd keep the corpse fresh. Agent Dennis proceeded down the stairs as well and from that point found refuge on the leather couch. The youthful man shut his eyes…bliss, finally a world without interruption. The last thing Loyan saw before falling into his serenity was Sancho setting the corpse gently next to the window and exiting the first class structure, pulling out his pack of cigarettes.  
"Aye! Ayuda! Ayuda!"  
Loyan was woken from his slumber by the awful cries of what had sounded like his partner. He glanced at his watch; he had only slept for two _measly_ hours. Damn Sancho…damn him and his cigarettes…and that was final. The annoyed agent opened the door of the cabin and exited. Not two steps away from the shelter in which he had reached peace he was caught off guard by a zooming jeep. Loyan jumped to the right, dodging a near death or eternal injury. Sliding onto the ground he lifted his head to see Sancho storming past the bridge and fleeing away with the means of transportation agent Dennis had. The bewildered sheriff was yelling the same thing repeatedly.  
"Corrida pues tus vida!"  
Loyan raised his sluggish body from the ground and brushed the sediment off from his fabrics. The ditched agent examined his surroundings and came to find nothing…he then stated one word, long and slurred.  
"Bastard…"  
Loyan strayed back into the cabin and returned back to lying on the couch. As he closed his barren, dry eyes the annoyances around him seemed to disappear.


End file.
